Hope Is Born When All Is Forlorn
by Wicked R
Summary: Word reaches Legolas that his father is fading, but the prince has no wishes to become king. Variation on a previous theme. Eventual Legolas/Tauriel.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Hope Is Born When All Is Forlorn

Notes: So I'm back after some Lee RPF. I do realise the idea is not new, but sometimes a writer's just got to write what she has got to write!

Disclaimers: Lee Pace, be mine. Okay, pull the other one. If it sounds like Tolkien, it's not mine either.

Genre: H/C. Traditional SICKFIC where the plot suffers for the sake of the genre.

Rating: T

Summary: Word reaches Legolas that his father is fading, but the prince has no wishes to become king. Variation on a previous theme.

Set: Post-BOTFA

Pairing: Legolas/Tauriel

Warning: Unless you like pure, unadulterated hurt/comfort for the sake of it, it's unlikely you will understand the point to this fic.

Mood: Determined

Travelling through the Shire, Moria and Gondor was an eye-opener for Legolas, convincing him all the more that the Mirkwood elves should've ventured out more and then they would've known Gandalf was right and how much protection and support diminutive races and remnants of once allies frequently needed to counter the growing threat of Sauron and his supporters. Even the small act of showing himself through villages was sometimes a help to raise the moral of the people and he was contemplating offering his services to the king of Rohan to protect their towns and cities that were constantly raided by Dunlendings when by the Mering Stream his archer senses alerted him that someone was most likely aiming an arrow at him. But he did not duck or drew a shaft out his quiver himself as he knew exactly who it was. Nobody could creep up at him the same way as Tauriel, the very person he had been trying to escape for the heartache she was inadvertently causing him. Legolas had barely been away for more than a year from his homeland and had not yet been able to shed his devotion to the Silvan and thus it still hurt when he slowly turned and looked into the green eyes of the woman he loved for over a century. The arrow intended to stop him in his tracks landed behind him. "Tauriel…" He whispered, wincing.

The redhead closed the distance between them, "Gin suilon Legolas," she greeted him informally. "I am so sorry to be the bearer of bad news," she started, expression sympathetic, "I have come to track you down and ask for your return because your father in unwell."

"Unwell?" The prince repeated bewildered. "Man te? Has he been injured?"

"No," Tauriel sighed, "but he is fading, Legolas."

The blond shook his head, "that's impossible. He was shining the same as ever in Dale."

"Are you sure of that? I…I didn't see it that way."

Legolas regarded her, uncomprehending. "I hardly think you had much time to notice such a thing," he brooded, miffed.

"You don't know what happened after you left, mellon. As we stood there, up on Ravenhill, I knew he was just as broken as I was. And while I healed, he didn't."

"Has he asked for me?" The Sindar was slowly digesting the information that his father was perhaps dying. He could not believe it and even so, unless it was a sudden heartache over the loss of a loved one, wouldn't it take years for someone as resilient, full of pride and self-righteous as Thranduil to fade away?

"Not that I am aware of," the woman flinched, having to admit her lack of knowledge, "but it's not like everything that happens up in a halls gets filtered down to the dungeons."

"You were imprisoned?" The self-exiled elf was surprised. He had always assumed Tauriel would flee herself before punishment could reach her.

"Yes. I left to find you on the day I was free. For the king's sakes, I just wish it would've been sooner. He is very weak and I am not sure if you coming back would save him now."

"If he has decided to go to Valinor, how can I change his stubborn mind?" The archer spoke annoyed. He was not ready to be a king. What was this, some sort of masterplan to get him to behave like the heir to the Mirkwood throne for once? "And besides, since when do you care if my father lives or dies? Mar agoreg?"

Tauriel gulped, taken aback and saddened, "we have…I have been wrong about him. I didn't expect him to console me over the death of my…of Kili. I did not expect him to visit me in the dungeons almost daily while he was still able to make sure I was well. He was a friend to me, he always had been, I was just too blind to see it. He loves and cares and it's killing him to remember how it is to feel," she imparted, eyes watering.

"I do not understand you Tauriel." Legolas admitted, "I don't understand this whole thing. What happened that made my father wants to die so badly that it reaches the otherwise by him, or by us Sindars unmovable pits of your heart?"

"I've had time to think in the dungeons and I came to the conclusion that it just got too much for him I think. The grief, the broken heart. He could only bear the absence of your mother if as little as possible reminded him of her, but it was a burden he carried for centuries. And then there were the losses of the battle, your challenging him, reliving his immense personal loss by looking at me, your departure…altogether, it was too much. I understand that feeling, wanting it to end so it doesn't hurt anymore…please come home Legolas, if not for anything else than giving him just a little happiness."

"You really care about him," Legolas established in shock. "You're telling me that my leaving was the last drop that made the glass overflow?"

"It is why I think that if there's anybody who can bring him back to us, it's you," Tauriel ventured.

"We should take the passage through Nindalf. It's closer. I know the trails across the wetlands." The prince suggested.

Tbc


	2. Keeper

Chapter 2: Keeper

Mablung, the Grey-Elf healer who once crossed the Misty Mountains with King Oropher, was hastening up the stairs towards the reigning king's bedroom. It has long became evident to the knowing eye that Thranduil was fading and courtiers and servants alike had manifold asked one of the healers' assistance on the various occasions when the royal had collapsed, overindulged in the Dorwinion wine or became catatonic. Thranduil himself asking for help however was unprecedented in the course of this malady his unwillingness to live created, so the old healer was quite worried when he was told to come. A guard opening the door for him, he found the elvenking lying flat on his back in his bed, ashen and with his hands clutching his midsection, breaths coming in short moans, his brows furrowed.

Thranduil slowly turned his head towards the visitor, sighing with what could be interpreted as slight relief. "Mablung. My stomach is very sore," he panted.

"I'm not surprised," his father's once friend scolded, "have you eaten anything for the last week?" He stepped forward to touch the ruler's abdomen, assess the condition he was in.

The king on turn gave him a disapproving eye, but did not answer. What should he have said? That it didn't matter cause he wanted to die anyway? Probably all of Mirkwood knew that by now. He whimpered instead, perspiration breaking out on his face when the medicine man prodded his stomach. "I will mix you something for the pain," Mablung rose, starting. So close, he was able to sense the king's spirit barely flickering, and even when it kindled, it was full of anguish and ache. "But it will only mask the hurting, you need to try to eat something once it settles," he encouraged.

Thranduil looked at him with an anguished, misbelieving expression and of course the healer knew his taking some nutrition into him will never come to pass. The elder settled instead for making his mix. Normally, healing came from restoring the spirit, but in this case it was impossible. So second rate measures aimed at easing the symptoms would have to do. He pulled out miruvor, a vial with the restorative waters from Nimrodel, elanor and sweet lissuin from his shoulder bag, leaving the athelas where they were as there wasn't any actual wound to mend, and watched Thranduil apprehensively as he worked on the mixture, not liking one bit as the elvenking clutched his stomach, barely present, gripped by the anguish and by some preternatural world that had him already, physical body aside.

The healer finished his mixture and poured it into a cup, blended with wine, but finally didn't have the heart to force it down the suffering elf's throat. It would soothe the pain a little, help the body cope and ultimately keep him in this realm a little longer, and prolong his suffering. Thranduil wanted to pass on, be with his Ladrengildis, expire from a world of isolation he could not connect deeply with anyone in, his vitality gone and any desire for joy and life's activities vanished. Mablung would have to clear it with and answer to the council for it later, but he suddenly and compassionately made the decision of helping the king depart this life peacefully instead of it being a struggle fought every step of the way. Setting the cup down, he stepped to the bed, placed a hand on the fading elf's forehead and started softy and quietly chanting to quell him, assuage the pain by the help with the transition of separating his fea from his hroa, distance him from the physical world.

It didn't take long to jumpstart the transition, proving how close Thranduil had been to complete it on his own. The king stilled and calmed, expression almost at peace, stained only by the thin thread his spirit was still hanging on while it lingered to encase experiences from the mortal lands into implicit memory it would cling to remember even in Valinor. Mablung removed his hand. He didn't dare to venture further, not without the approval of the council and it was best the rest of the journey was made at the pace most comfortable for the departing anyway. Somewhat pacified himself by not having to witness the suffering of a younger elf, the healer prepared to leave his patient and notify guards and officials alike of an imminent event at which time he heard commotion approaching. When it got close enough that he could make out distinct voices through the door, it was the strong baritone of a sentry that he could discern: "We have strict orders from high councillor Neldor to reprimand Tauriel into custody as soon as she is detected, my lord."

"You didn't tell me you escaped," what was possible to be Legolas' voice countered.

"Would you rather I stayed put and didn't find you to tell you about your father?" Tauriel responded.

"We have permission to use any force necessary if the situation called for it," the guard started again.

"Do you also have permission to oppose your crown prince?" Legolas confirmed for Mablung he wasn't hallucinating and it was indeed the royal's voice he heard. Evermore protecting Tauriel at all costs, disregarding all propriety and elven hierarchy for her. The healer still couldn't believe his ears. If he would've known the prince was coming, he would've taken a different course of action with the king. Blanching considering the consequences of his well-intentioned actions, the elder watched with trepidation as Legolas stepped in, closely followed by a rather dishevelled, but determined Tauriel, who had the audacity to close the door in the guards' faces.

Legolas ambled closer, every step slower and slower as he took in the features of his father. Pale, lifeless and without glow he was, unmoving and with his hands placed across his stomach, mouth opened slightly, breathing so shallowly one could only establish he was doing so if he leaning close, Thranduil didn't have the appearance of one that was living. The blond didn't expect it, but he felt suddenly crushed by sorrow and despair. He had spent a century being constantly annoyed with his father, that mattered not at a time like this. A constant presence in his life, unchanging, strong and resolute Thranduil had been, he couldn't have wasted away so quickly, could he? "Am I late?" He swallowed, lips quivering, his eyes searching for hope on Mablung's face.

"That depends," the healer grimaced, "I really don't know my prince. He might be too far gone, but if anybody can reach him, it is you."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Legolas approached to kneel beside the bed, panicked, pained eyes staring and struggling to take in the sight.

"Because it's true, my lord," Mablung gave a little bowing, respectful nod in his direction, "you are his anchor. He has a sense of duty to his people, yes, but that alone wouldn't have kept him here for so long without his soulmate."

"So you want to say that if I didn't leave, this wouldn't have happened? That I am to blame for my father's condition?" The warrior prince finally acknowledged what he thought Tauriel had been trying to make him understand too.

"I do not blame you Legolas," the old healer established, "and neither does your father. He has spent hundreds of years severed from his bonded mate, longer than most elves could endure," he deepened the explanation. "Their destinies were supposed to be entwined and he had resisted Ladrengildis' call, knowing he would be forgiven if he stayed for your sake. But with you gone, such a justification was no longer valid. It is the order of things, nothing more," Mablung tried to soften the blow.

"What should I do?" Legolas looked up at the elder, lost.

"Be with him, hold him, speak to him, hên," the faithful servant encouraged. "If nothing else, he will sense your presence and be comforted in your love as he passes." The Sindarin nodded at him hearteningly, "I should give you some privacy," he backed to retrieve his things, "should you notice him in discomfort, please call for me."

Legolas looked at Tauriel, feeling unprepared. "Take his hand?" She encouraged.

"And do what?" Legolas whispered, Mablung out of sight. "Helping someone die isn't exactly a skill they teach. And he doesn't tolerate being touched."

"I know you are resisting acknowledging this Legolas, but your father loves you. He had always asked for special reports from me detailing your deeds on patrol, double checked with me whether you were unharmed and…and he was looking out for your heart too," she admitted.

"Samol? How?"

"I was supposed to keep my distance, establish clear boundaries with you so you knew what to expect from me."

"As if that would've helped," Legolas grumbled sardonically.

"Well, he tried…"

"Why did you never tell me these before? Manen istog?"

"Because I have interpreted those actions differently in the past. I saw your father as controlling and cold in doing so. Now I know this aloofness was there to protect himself. He pretended not to care and hoped it would work, that he could wall himself up."

"How did you change your mind about him so quickly that much?" The blond was still bewildered by it.

"I will recognise pain filled eyes when I see them, Legolas. All it takes is one moment that's real. So please, show him your love." Tauriel urged.

Tbc

Vocabularly:

Manen istog – How do you know

Samol – Do you think

Hên - Child


	3. Light of Day

Chapter 3: Light of Day

"Do you think he is suffering?" Legolas asked Tauriel, ultimately having taken her advice to take Thranduil's brittle, translucent looking hand in both his and raised it to cradle to his chest. The sight of his father on what was most likely his death bed felt like someone pounded a hammer into his chest and left it there, playing on some heartstrings he didn't know existed. Something was breaking in him inside.

The Silvan gave him a sympathetic look, "no more than he had before," she offered awkwardly.

"Do you think he knows I'm here? Does it even matter?" The prince raised confused eyes at her.

"Yes." Tauriel was more sure of this one and gave her point of view with resolve. "He will feel you here, there's no way he doesn't."

"I didn't think I would ever see him like this," Legolas still watched the motionless form, unbelieving.

"We elves tend to set aside the thought if death because we don't encounter it as often as other races," the elven maiden called to mind.

"You can't die!" The reluctant heir to the throne finally addressed his father, shaking his head, "you haven't told me about my mother yet! I have avoided politics most of my life, have not studied history like you wanted me to, my authority is constantly questioned by every courtier and I do not want to sit on that throne, prisoner of my own standing!" He sighed and encouraged by the former captain's hopeful, urging look, he continued, "I would probably have to fade away with the boredom of that myself," Legolas rolled his eyes, "hear me, you need to live! At least just a little longer till I can get my head on right? If you love me the way people say you do, then do this for me please. Ada, I did not want this, I did not want us to get estranged this much. I want you to be well and happy, I never wanted anything different. Sometimes I do forget or refuse to understand why you can't have that." It seemed it was much easier to talk to the elf when he was unconscious. "I haven't bonded with anyone yet and I guess whatever pain I felt must be hundred times worse if it's a reciprocating soulmate. But you losing my mother, that was so long ago, I didn't think you would still suffer like this," he shook his head, "Ada. I am here. Legolas, your son. I am here to start our relationship over if you so want it too." He offered, fraught. He would've wanted to say that for years, but it never felt right before. Not without knowing if the other party wanted it too. "Ada. All I'm asking is a little sign that you have heard me." The blonde paused, waiting, searching his father's face. "I don't know what else I could do, Tauriel," he groaned. "It's so hard, watching this," his eyes glistened with hurt.

"That was a good, heartfelt try," Tauriel smiled at him, "it's what I hope you'd do. That you would give him a chance after all."

"And of great benefit it was," Legolas established, exasperated, putting his head on his father's arm, "he didn't react. But I will go on. Maybe it takes some time. You don't have to wait with me Tauriel, you must be hungry and in need of a bath."

The redhead shook her head, "I don't fancy my chances of not being thrown into the dungeons if I go out there without you. Furthermore, I owe him this. For my life, my upbringing, his forgiveness." She leaned down and pressed a kiss to the monarch's forehead, then felt the need to smooth his hair down to make it like he usually wore it. "Thranduil…" She whispered. "Stay with us. Meet the new, noninsolent Tauriel," she smiled at her own words, incredulous herself. Perhaps that was a bit farfetched, but she would try.

Neither of them expected Thranduil's hand Legolas didn't hold to move. It twitched and hovered, as if wanting to grasp something. His son and former guard shouted "ada," and "my lord," at the same time and while the maiden reached for the hovering hand, Legolas leaned over him hopefully, "ada, can you hear me?"

"I can hear you," Thranduil intoned slowly, eyes fluttering, but ultimately remaining closed even as his head turned from left to right and back, disorientedly searching for some stimulus that had his attention captivated.

"Thank Iluvatar!" Legolas jumped, "what's happening to you ada, what's wrong, are you comfortable?" He tried to guess the reason for the strange behaviour. Even now when conscious, Thranduil seemed to have remained in some sort of world beyond what the younger ones knew. He was still moving his head about as if some of his senses were missing so Legolas wasn't sure if the head shake was an answer to his question.

"Tauriel?" The king ignored his son for the time being. The Silvan moved forward at the prompt, into his line of vision, that is if his eyes were going to finally open. But she held the hand she had grabbed hold of earlier close and made sure she was close enough so that he could hear her, "I am here, Your Majesty. In your service. I am in your debt, please allow me to pay some of that back. I am here to fulfil your wishes if I am at all able, whatever they may be, my gracious Lord." She said with more meekness and compassion than Legolas ever thought her capable of.

The sides of Thanduil's lips turned up into a ghost of a smile and when his eyelids fluttered, his sea blue eyes were solely focussed on her. Willing some intent into his limbs, the king's grip tightened on her hand, "will you watch over Legolas for me…" He intoned weakly.

"Me?" The former guard furrowed her eyebrows, surprised.

"I know you care enough for him, beyond any one other. He listens to you, bring him home. But it's your warmth he needs, more than anything." Thranduil insisted, eyes hopeful and almost innocent looking as he gave over whatever there was left for him in this world that still kept him.

"But my Lord," Tauriel glanced at the other side of the bed, "Legolas is here. I already went to get him for you," she smiled.

Thranduil looked confused to begin with. It was obvious he didn't know who he had been talking to earlier. He turned his head first, slowly, but seemingly messages from his brain to his eyes took longer to process, during which time Legolas started to irrationally worry if he was maybe invisible as result of some inane, abstract, stray thought people sometimes had in grave situations, but his thoughts turned to his father's welfare quickly as Thranduil suddenly became agitated, hyperventilating, shaking, attempting to rise on an elbow.

The younger elves moved on instinct, steadying him, propping him up higher on his pillows, smoothing his hair out his face. Legolas put a calming hand on the king's shoulder, "it is me, your son, Legolas_. Odulen an edraith angin."_

"Ionneg," Thranduil moaned, only stilling when he had both of them close and their hands in his. "It is you I sensed." He established on a stronger voice, than before, but he still looked somewhat muddled. "It is true. Not a vision." He swallowed against the effort, but slowly and purposefully pulled his son and Tauriel's hands towards each other and placed them together to hold hands on his chest, then set his own on top, "I give you my blessing, henig. You will have no protestations from the council with my official permission. Savo 'lass a lalaith. Galu."

Legolas and Tauriel looked at each other puzzled, but didn't dare to pull their hands away. Neither of them said anything about Tauriel never encouraging his advances either, but they didn't have to. The king wore an ethereal smile, "not for just now. For when your relationship blossoms into fruit," he nodded knowingly, then suddenly turned solemn, "Ladrengildis' wedding dress is in the bronze and leather chest in my quarters behind the hidden wall."

Legolas looked at him uncertain, "ada?" It was the second time Thranduil mentioned his wife without being prompted.

"It was not a dream," the king sounded more certain and stronger, "I can't die till I tell you about your mother you said."

"In that case, just don't tell me about her, ever," Legolas panted, panicked. For a moment there it looked like his father wasn't giving up and now he was again?

"Everything you need to know about her is in the three trunks on top of each other by the harp. The keys to her chambers…" He patted his chest and pulled a small locket from under his thin nightshirt not many people were aware of he wore beneath his royal garbs. "Anything you need to ask about her belongings, Ambarusse and Duilin should be old enough and knowledgeable enough to tell you."

"No." The darker blond ascertained, "it's you I want to hear it from, not servants. Nobody else will ever have the same vantage point as you." He argued.

Thranduil nodded, but it wasn't the agreeing kind of nod. It was a tired one, where he although acknowledged the spoken words, he had no strength to entertain them. He had spent more energy already than he had at his disposal. Giving his son's hand another, last squeeze, he settled dazedly, eyelids finding it hard to keep from closing. He was however, violently shaken, "don't you dare die on me like this ada." His muscles being as much as moved by someone else was tiring too. The light was there, he just had to swim for it and not dragged to shore by insistent hands every time.

"I have no idea how to run a kingdom remember?" Legolas tried, "I'm not good at politics, diplomacy, know not all laws and the characteristics to look out for in foreign delegates. I don't know which councillor is good at which area of guidance and who to trust. I've always ran away to train, hunt, patrol or plain simple ran away per se. I do not have the experience to preside and dish out judgements and punishments. I need to observe you at work for once!" He exclaimed, still shaking the older elf.

"I will. Help." Thranduil ground out, the simple sentence being the only thing he was capable of in his exhaustion before he had no choice but to allow his body to rest.

"Legolas." Tauriel had come round the bed and was trying to contain the anxious one by embracing and pulling him away from the back, "let him be."

"That's just it Tauriel, the word, 'be'! Will he stay alive if I leave him alone!" Legolas agonized.

"He came back for you Legolas, don't you see? He was ready to die but then he thought, if only in dream, you were there and that was enough to bring him back. He will stay, for now, I can sense it," Tauriel smiled, eyes glazed over in wonderment, "but if you are not sure, bring professional healers back to confirm the outcome of my crude use of magic. And Legolas. That is another area you need practice in, and the use of kingsfoil," she advised.

Tbc

Vocabulary:

Savo 'lass a lalaith. Galu – Have joy and laughter. Good luck.

Odulen an edraith angin – I came here to save you

Henig – child.


	4. Proportionate

Chapter 4: Proportionate

"Mablung," Legolas intercepted the healer leaving his father's chambers, "how does my father fare?"

"He fares remarkably and oddly well, my Price," the older elf granted, "and I imagine it's all down to your being here, henig."

No matter how many times he was told that, Legolas still felt a bit bewildered by it all. It was the most perfect proof for his father's love if there was one and yet they have spent the majority of his adulthood outwardly antagonising each other. What was that about? "So he isn't fading anymore?" The younger elf looked hopeful.

"I wouldn't say that, hir vuin. But the last few days since you've arrived had made him stronger, lucid, suffering less physically as well. Now we need to get his stomach working and perhaps he could gain some more strength. He no longer refuses nutrition, but his body is not taking it well. At least he's able to keep down some remedies. What all this proves that the first time in months, he is actually fighting, he wants to get better. Whether his decision is temporary, I do not know. A part of him left with Ladrengildis a long time ago and part of him departed after her recently, but I believe he could delay fading if he wanted to. Years, decades perhaps. As long as it takes you to understand what it makes to be a good king, is what he says."

"That isn't exactly the greatest incentive to learn fast, Mablung," Legolas frowned.

The healer ventured to put a comforting hand on the youngster's shoulder, "your instincts have served you well of late, child. Follow them and you will both be all right, your relationship mended. Do not worry about what's to come. With love in your hearts, his eventual fading will not be anguished. For now, simply be joyous at his revitalisation."

"Is he resting? Can I see him?" The blond inquired tensely, still. He couldn't quite trust the turn for the better just yet.

"He is resting, but he will always want to see you. Go ahead, boe annin gwad," the older elf encouraged him to enter with a last nod before he departed to make it in time to the group of students expecting him to teach them some spells that day.

Legolas had always been weary entering the king's chambers, and not just since he came back. Thranduil's mood was notoriously unpredictable at all times and although the ruler had shown nothing but goodwill in his direction in the last few days, there was the issue of whether he was well enough to handle conversations. To his surprise, when he opened the door he could discern the king's clear, soft voice: "Is that meadow sufficient enough for them?" Thranduil asked, sitting up on his bed in a light blue silken gown that covered the whole of his body, but was thin enough not to leave much to the imagination. "They have to move before their antlers get too big to fit through and not get tangled up in vines. Otherwise they will need to spend their whole lives there."

"For now it's big enough," Tauriel confirmed, sitting on the king's bed, brushing his hair. (Since when would his father allow that?) The interaction was so unusual and fascinating that it froze Legolas to the spot and not wanting to interrupt so that he could experience more of this candid moment. Something must've happened between them to make his father so relaxed with the rebel who had threatened his life.

"Because there are only five of them." Tauriel clarified. "They are essentially hiding out to protect the calves. But I will go out to check in a week's time and if the time is right, I could lead them through Forest Gate for more open woodlands."

"How would you do that Tauriel?" Thranduil challenged, "can you communicate with them? Whistle, stomp, twitch and drop your ears, bob your head, poke, snort and circle, interpret their tail flicking? It's like a whole language and you haven't even been accepted into their graces yet."

"They've trusted me enough to let me sit amongst them," the Silvan argued.

The ruler gave an impatient gesture with his hand, reminiscent of his old self, "not adequate."

"Avo garo am man theled? Well, what do you suggest then, my Lord? Do you volunteer and maintain that in a week's time, you will be well enough to ride out yourself and help this new family of elks upon your land?" Tauriel defied him, challenging in a way that could be beneficial to the overall situation.

Thranduil sat up straighter as a result and jerked his head away from her brush, "I believe I am presentable enough. Now what's on the third platter?" He peeked over to the table where his supposed lunch laid concealed by a plate cover. The first two choices presented to him earlier he so far did not feel able to touch, but if the elks were to be helped, he had to try and have something to eat.

"Lake-Town Market Salad, courtesy of King Bard's daughter, Sigrid." The older elf looked at her suspiciously, so the former captain clarified further, "she arrived here originally to invite you to the festivities in honour of the rebuilding of Esragoth. But in view of the fact that you're unwell, Sigrid has offered the gesture to help. Though regardless of principled gestures, it doesn't look like she will get used to the title or standing of a princess any time soon," she commented on the side issue.

"What is in it made of?" The blond seemed a bit guarded.

"As far as I know, just a selection of vegetables cooked in wine," the elven maiden rose to lift up the plate cover for a look. She would certainly not mention the rumours that the men of Dale still had preserved supplies of meat dating back to the acquiring of the body of a 466 foot dragon.

Thranduil's reaction was immediate. He clutched at his stomach and gagged, "the smell…" He waved, indicating he wanted the plate covered again.

"It's freshly made and the aroma is not unpleasant," the redhead uttered puzzled, though she wouldn't volunteer herself to try the dish. Legolas did rush forward at this point, trying to save a distressed king from further embarrassment while Tauriel was distracted and he offered the thankfully empty chamber pot just in time for his father to spew into.

"Dragon…" Thranduil managed between spitting, "meat…I think…that's dragon meat in there." His hands were trembling and he swayed, prompting both younger elves to reach out and steady his from both sides.

"Ada. Are you all right?" The archer struggled with seeing his father suffering like this. They seemed to have to hold up the older blond's whole upper body now as he appeared pliable like a ragdoll at this moment, his colour draining and his eyes closing with a moan.

"Being sick was probably too much of an exertion for today above everything else," Tauriel speculated, "let's lie him down," she suggested, pulling pillows out the way. "He walked out to the balcony with some help earlier," she heartened.

"Ada?" Legolas pressed nevertheless. He wanted to hear how his father was feeling from him, to be sure.

"Rhaich. My stomach," Thranduil winced, holding the body part.

"Do you want me to send for Mablung?" The prince offered.

The king gave a weak nod, "an ngell nin…"

The former captain of the guard turned at once, "I'll get him."

Legolas sat beside his father, "oh ada. Getting better in a week's time to ride out does indeed sound rather ambitious. Maybe you should teach me how to deal with elks first," he suggested, smiling faintly in view of the situation.

Tbc

Vocabulary:

Boe annin gwad – I must go

An ngell nin – please

Avo garo am man theled – why not


	5. Implementation

Chapter 5: Implementation

Forest patrol immediately felt like home to Legolas. While checking that the new rates were taken correctly at the tolls for river transport wasn't exactly a king's or indeed prince's duty directly, he jumped at the opportunity to take a break from reading documents of trade negotiations and discussing the wording of changes to the law. It also gave him the chance to re-establish a role and standing for Tauriel. Although the king clearly preferred her presence by his sickbed as opposed to the dungeons, her position in the guard has been widely disputed amongst the ranks in the absence of a formal royal verdict, so Legolas planned to make it clear that Tauriel has never lost her rank and was undoubtedly qualified to act as his equal on patrols like she used to. The two of them however never worked well in a group, and it wasn't long before they volunteered for scouting ahead of the squadron, to nobody's astonishment.

Advancing on the side of the mountains wasn't as easy as taking the path, but it gave a good view of possible threats like sharpfangs, spiders, goblins and the many creatures living in the Mirkwood forests, as well as potential ground for confidential conversation. Legolas shot down a stray marsh-firefly and closed up to Tauriel, falling in step with her with familiar ease, "**peditham hi sui vellyn?** Do you love him?" He bade as emotionlessly as he could delude himself to be.

Tauriel gave him a startled side glance, but the focus of her attention remained on the vines of the trees that could hide any danger, "I thought I did," she admitted, "but maybe your father was right. I only knew him a few fleeing days. If I bonded with him like I was intending to, I would have had to spend eternity without him, without a mate. Not that you can tell the heart who to love of course. It was burning with high flames, it made me not see the wood for the trees."

"You're talking about Kili." Legolas started.

The warrior maiden frowned, "who else?"

"Do you love him?" Legolas repeated the question, "my father, do you love him. I've seen you with him, the intimate ways you relate, the way he lets you touch him, how you care about and for him, anticipate and strive to fulfil his every wish. It would be a reasonable assumption to say that you do all these things because you love him." He argued, looking seemingly unaffected. "It would make sense. The past also when you outwardly antagonised each other. In hindsight, was it to not admit the attraction, even to yourselves?"

Tauriel stopped in her tracks, stalled by the importance of the exchange, then turned to her conversation partner and snorted, "I'm not in love with your father. Your reasoning is rather faulty and quite funny. I have honestly hated your father for centuries and forgotten to be grateful for his care. In my defence, he hadn't exactly been forthcoming with positive demeanours and emotions. Now, now we have an understanding. Something passed between us in that moment we stood grieving on Ravenhill and it only took that instant to make us close. Everything else simply followed, falling into place."

"But you care for him deeply." The other established.

"Yes, I care for him, genuinely and profoundly, as you would for a close friend, if I may give the his highness such a designation. I wish him the best and suffering any the least. My heart is breaking for him now that I understand the ways he has managed to stay strong for so long and I will do everything in my power to ease his sorrow. Nothing I wouldn't do for you as well however." She assured, resuming walking casually, "and I hope I have proven that of late."

"You…have been a good friend," the prince acknowledged, "bringing me back, listening to my worries and advising in matters of the court and of family too."

Tauriel snorted, "Legolas, you're so hopeless at reading romantic feelings." She shook her head.

"Daro," the blond reeled, "what do you mean by that!" He had blanched, the weight of the question too important to remain calm.

"The feelings I have for you. It was your father who pointed them out to me at first. Because of my position, I buried them subconsciously, I never dared to contemplate the possibility. When he told me I shouldn't give you hope I had to realise that they were there, he has noticed. You were my everyday companion, we shared our every thought and moment, how could I not care for you?"

"But what about the dwarf?" Legolas found it hard to hope. He had spent immense effort trying to stone up his heart to save himself the disappointment.

"There's a difference between a combusting, all-consuming flame and the fire that got kindled gradually on grounds that would make it burn forever."

Legolas' eyes opened wide, "are you actually saying what I think you're saying?! How can you talk about it so calmly!"

Her smile was slow, but sincere, "Legolas, please. I couldn't stand you being unhappy either, that's why I mentioned it, but don't push it just yet. I only just realised myself not long ago while talking to your father and I haven't dared to elaborate on it, despite his encouragement."

"Of course, of course, gwestog," the other elf stepped back, eager to give her space, whatever she needed if it led to a probably union between them. They had time, they were elves, but now that Legolas knew there was hope, there was a spring in his step.

Tbc

Vocabulary:

gwestog - promise

daro – stop

peditham hi sui vellyn – may we speak as friends now


	6. Undercover

Chapter 6: Undercover

"Ada, lle tyava quel? You should go lie down for a bit before King Bard arrives," Legolas insisted. The morning council had stretched into the afternoon due to the appointing of new watchmen for border surveillance to cover some previously unwatched areas and listening to accounts of old ones and it had been the longest time Thranduil had spent out of bed since his getting better.

"No. I just need some fresh air," the older elf asserted, continuing towards his gardens, but he did accept the offered arm to lean on. "Tauriel." He stalled, looking back and waited till the elvish maiden joined them as well, "have you ever seen the golden-white bells of symbelmine in bloom before?" The king addressed his newly reinstated guard.

"They don't grow in the forest," Tauriel shook her head.

"Indeed, they do not. Ladrengildis had they brought from Lebennin," he explained as they ascended up the stone stairs that led to an opening in the caves, a portion of the hills the halls were built under that could not be reached from anywhere else due to the steepness of the rocks surrounding it. It was where the queen's garden used to be that at Legolas' astonishment was still well kept and flawless, clearly looked after. He had no idea his father even knew about flowers, never mind the exact way for instance mallos, nessamelda or the sweet smelling lissuin needed cared for. The king has taken great shine to explaining about them all, the same way as he frequently mentioned his late wife almost fluidly as if it always would've been completely habitual of him. "Symbelmine, once in blossom, outlive most elves," Thranduil leaned on Tauriel's arm at his other side as well, having been seemingly exhausted by the assent to the top, "all they need is love."

The access flap opened with a song, that the tall elf hummed distractedly, somewhat rushed at this point till he could step out and take a well missed deep breath, becoming one with the plants and flowers populating his secret garden in a stunningly beautiful arrangement. It was possibly where he felt closest to his long lost bond mate. Smiling, he led the two younger elves round a Lebethron tree and pointed to the sticking up roots that resembled a bench. "It was here Ladrengildis told me she was expecting," he sighed, absorbed in the memory, "and this is also where you were conceived. Nobody can see this spot, not from the inside of the halls, and not from the outside. Me and your mother spent precious moments here. Nae saian luume'…"

It was mind-bending to think that unbeknownst to most, including his own son, Thranduil came up here regularly and often to remember his wife and carried the burden well contained for so long on his own. "I thank you ada, for all these recollections of my mother you share with me," Legolas bowed his head in acknowledgement.

"Oh, that's not why we came here," Thranduil waved a hand dismissively, letting go of the supporting arms and indicated the two of them should sit on the root.

"Why is it we came here?" Legolas inquired as him and the maiden complied with the command. "Not really fresh air either, was it?"

"Do you know the song that opens the exit?" The king pressed, "can you reproduce it?"

"I believe so," the prince said wearily. Every scrap of knowledge of the kingdom and its secrets he had learnt felt like a small bit of good bye to Thranduil. Was his father still teaching him everything so he could pass away or was it possible that learning these things did not have grave consequences?

"Then I give you," Thranduil made an embellished gesture round his surroundings, "your private gardens."

"Oh no, no, ada," Legolas opposed fiercely, "you take so much pleasure in these flowers! I do not know how to care for them best and I'm not exactly the flowers type," he argued desperately, "they wouldn't survive my type of attention."

Thranduil rolled his eyes, "I certainly would not trust you with them, that's for sure. What I am giving you is a confidential place you two can come to meet, away from dissenting eyes and nosey servants. I understand you are not ready to take your relationship to the next level, so until then, this is where you can be yourselves, unrestricted by custom and restrains. Tenna' telwan san'." And with that, he nodded his head at them and started off with purposeful, confident steps back to his halls, leaving the younger ones behind without as much as a glace.

"Was he faking needing both of our help up the way?" Legolas frowned, staring at the occurrence.

Tauriel snorted, "I wouldn't be surprised. I heard other guards talking about him being back on the wine a fair bit like he used to be, and singing at night. What do you think!"

"I do not know what to think," the blond admitted, "wait. When was this getting tanked-up?"

"The night before the last."

"So you're saying that is why he had the dizzy spell yesterday, cause he had been drinking! And here I've been worried. But what about his appetite? He still doesn't eat much."

"Did Thranduil ever eat much?" Tauriel shrugged. "I believe he is well, Legolas. And I would go further, that notwithstanding the minor physical weaknesses, he is happier than I have ever known him. Your proven devotion is his cure."

"What about this farce then," the blond grunted, "getting us up here to give us a…what? What exactly are we supposed to do here?"

"His matchmaking skills are adorable, don't you say?" The redhead said, rather amused, and slid closer on the tree root to the crown prince, "as are you, all perplexed." She leaned close, and for the briefest of moments, touched his lips with her own. It was like a stroke of velvet over his panting, surprised lips, a loving gesture. Bright, sincere green eyes left him enthused and hopeful. "What was that?" He frowned suspiciously.

"The next level," Tauriel confirmed, cupping his cheek, not quite understanding herself what took her so long to come to appreciate what was in front of her.

The End.

Vocabulary:

Nae saian luume' – it's been too long

Tenna' telwan san' – until later then

lle tyava quell – do you feel well


End file.
